𝙱𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙾𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜

𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕

TW: depression, mentions of self-harm, suicide, implied major character death

Angst

It's pointless.

That is the only thought that fills Chan's mind as his body moves slowly towards the edge of the roof, step by mindless step. 

It doesn't feel like he is in control of himself, of his actions, his thoughts. That's the way it has been for so long now. 

It is as though he is a stranger in his own body, numb to the world, viewing life through a haze of negativity and self hatred.

Another step.

God, he really is such a useless leader. He couldn't keep them together as one group during the survival show, or even the years following it. 

One more step. 

He is a weak rapper, so weak that JYP recommended that he not even bother pursuing it at all, although that was his dream position and they both knew it.

Was.

Many things were, used to be, in the past.

Before everything went downhill.

He doesn't stop, even as the edge looms nearer. 

If he is being honest, was there ever a time when things weren't bad?

All of this time, he has been masquerading, for the others, for the company, for his friends, his family, STAY, for himself.

He has pretended to be happy since he found the others, and he really did mean it when he said that they were the reason that he is still here, still alive.

There is that word again.

Was.

A knife of guilt stabs his heart as he thinks of the others, of how they will react to the news.

Will they even care?

Will they blame themselves? He hopes not.

Or will they simply shake their heads in sadness, in grief, but not surprise?

After all, it is not like his depression is exactly something he has been able to hide. He wouldn't be surprised if they were to breathe a quiet sigh of relief, free from the responsibility of picking him up when he has shattered yet again.

He is so lucky to have them.

He knows that.

But if he is so lucky, then why does he feel like this?

Why is he here,  on the edge of  the fucking roof of the building, poised to fall at any moment?

If he is so lucky, then why does a twisted part of him enjoy feeling like this, simply...basking in all of the gray, all of the negativity?

Why does a part of him enjoy opening up lines on his skin, drawing blood, being able to release the pain, if only for a little bit?